In Between
by Say-It
Summary: In between all the chaos, he didn't notice his heart hurt more that his bleeding shoulder.


**In** **Between **

He realizes that the damn monkey probably had it planned from the start, and he fell for it, _every single second._ He only has himself to blame for his blindness. He let himself be lulled into false security and fake camaraderie, and damn it, he made it so _easy_ for the bastard. He was quick to believe and quick to smile, was quick to call him his best friend. From the very first day all the way to the _very __last__ moment_ when his eyes widened in horror as he watched the flaming hand make contact and scorch the pale, creamy skin, he hadn't suspect a thing. Yata wants to bash himself with his own bat because he didn't have a damn clue, and that just frustrates him so much.

He had let himself hang onto his every word. He had let himself swing an arm around the other's shoulder, lean in close to him and whisper secrets. He had let himself tell him jokes even though the bastard never laughed and always answered them with the same bored expression (but the rare times that he did smile, it was _fucking beautiful_). He had let himself fight alongside him, their backs touching with adrenaline coursing through his veins and the crackle of fire in the air. And he had let himself fall…

But in the end it was all an act. He was tricked. He was played for a fool. Yata fucking believed it _all _and the joke was on him.

He's so angry, and he _swears_ when he gets his hands on the asshole he's going to make him regret the day he ever got the stupid idea to cross HOMRA. So when he sees him again, sees him again after so long, he's fingers are itching to curl into a fist and knock that irritating smirk off his smug little face. He forgets about their surroundings (it doesn't freaking matter if they are on school grounds) and he's ready to beat the crap out of him. He's ready to kill him for the snide remark about his King, for the too familiar way he talks about his family, and _god_, _the way he says his name is driving him up the wall_. He hates it, he hates it, he _hates it._ So he lets loose, red flames sparking the air, and he's flying forward at breakneck pace, closer and closer. He curses himself for forgoing his bat that day because now's the perfect time to put it to use and smash the traitor's fucking skull in. He's almost caught off guard because his attack is answered with a streak of electrifying blue, and he isn't expecting that. He obviously should have seen it coming; he's fighting a damn traitor, after all (but maybe a part of him had still refused to believe it). He'd be damned if he ever admitted it, but the bastard's improved: he's all the more cunning and his reactions have become faster. Yata just hates the way he fights, all laid back and relaxed as if this were a stroll in the park for him. It sets him on edge and he just wants to shout at the other to fucking take this seriously. That's why he's completely shocked when he finds himself on the ground a moment later, clutching his shoulder and biting back whimpers of pain clawing at his throat. He's stunned into silence because he never anticipated this.

"I just told you. I've acquired even more power since leaving Mikoto's side." The voice is simply cutting.

He would have laughed at the irony of being stabbed with a blazing red dagger of all things if he wasn't in so much _pain. _Instead, he grits his teeth and gets back up, spewing flames filled with rage because anger is an emotion he knows how to deal with. He didn't even notice, between sneering at the monkey's smirking face and suddenly being interrupted by the SCEPTER4 woman, his heart hurt more than his bleeding shoulder. And when it's clear the battle has no chance of being continued, and he finally turns to leave, he can't help but glance back at the face of his enemy.

It was only late that night, when he had nothing to do but lie in bed and stare at the long crack in his ceiling, he replayed the fight in his head. His left hand instinctively reaches up to rub his sore, bandaged shoulder. He suddenly realizes that that was the first time the monkey had ever physically hurt him, the first time he ever made him bleed. The thought stills him, and he's completely frozen for a moment before he silently turns on his side, pretending it doesn't affect him. He closes his eyes and wills himself to sleep.

* * *

When Yata wakes up, he wakes up to the sun filtering in through his dusty and half-drawn blinds. He runs his fingers through his hair, matted down from his twisting and turning. He doesn't remember when he had drifted off to sleep. Something tugs at the back of his mind, an inkling he can't shake. He tries for a few moments, but as the last bits slumber leave him, he finds he is unable to grasp what he dreamed. Deeming it unimportant, he jumps out of bed and makes his way into the kitchen at his stomach's call for food, and forgets entirely that his dreams were filled with memories of a certain monkey.


End file.
